


like fools, we rush blindly

by tieflingonmain



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: As One Does, Blind Character, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/M, Growing Old Together, Inspired by Dungeons & Dragons, Old Married Couple, Slow Dancing, Telepathy, bc ur joints hurt, bc you're in love with your mindflaying beau, but having to stop frequently, but it's alright, dancing in the kitchen w the love of ur life, y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieflingonmain/pseuds/tieflingonmain
Summary: At sixty-nine years old, Eustacia Redstone is not getting any younger. But that does not bother her much, so long as she can hold her love in her arms, and feel the press of his mucus-slick hands upon her face as they dance upon kitchen tile.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	like fools, we rush blindly

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something about one of my dnd characters, Eustacia Redstone, a (now elderly) chaotic neutral human Aberrant Mind (UA) Sorcerer. She's very morally sketchy, although she hides it well with nice old lady vibes, and is near-completely (if not totally) blind. Her late husband, as described in this piece, may or may not have been a renegade mind flayer. :y

There will come a time, when my world ends. Cleft by six gleaming silvered arrows, my world will fall heavenward, the last vestiges of his consciousness seeking mine. 

I will sink, when this happens, mind aflame, mouth open in a soundless scream, and the archer will fall too, eyes frothing, as I twist their mind to pieces. The shrieks will ripple out beyond this place, for leagues and leagues and leagues. The flora and fauna will whisper to their descendants of what has happened, and nothing will grow here for seven years. The archer will rot for nothing. 

...For now, though, my world is safe. 

For now, my hands clasp his, as we two-step our way through the kitchen. Time has lined our fingers with her fine-haired brush, and the little divots of our palms fit perfectly against one another. The bones of his knees—my Dilbert—nudge against my thighs, and our hips creak ponderously as we sway, captivated by the air between us. Above, the clock on the mantle ticks and ticks and ticks, before letting out a tock, and we use the rhythm to propel ourselves closer and closer, and we laugh, tangling, twisting, until I can’t figure where he ends and I start, a continuum of limbs. _God, we’re old, my love_ , I think. _How did we get this way?_ I reach up a hand to trace his face—his hard, beaky mouth, the basin of his cheekbones—to see his features the only way I can, and he catches my wrist with his teeth.

_Time, my love._ He nips my fingers, one by one. _We’ve been using the time we’ve been given_. His many-fingered moustache, cool and soft, dances against my palm, before winding down the path of my arm, and that too becomes a continuum, as his lips seek out mine.

In this moment I wish to see him in the way that he sees me, to read him through more than touch and sound. But I _settle—it doesn’t feel like settling,_ I think. _That’s because it isn’t, you’re worth more than settling for, Eustacia_ , he threads his hands in my hair—for the chill of his skin, the expansion of his chest against mine, the gentle rocking of our old bodies over the tile. _You’re always right, you know_ , I smile into his mouth. _I know_ , he smiles back. _“Bastard,”_ I laugh, breaking the kiss. _Yes_ , he huffs. His mustache curls around my jaw, lazy and content, before pulling me back in, and we stay that way, swaying, chest to chest, lip to lip, chasing breaths in the way that only old fools in love can achieve through diligent practice.

**Author's Note:**

> I would recommend listening to 'send me a peach' by the blasting company for additional softness, its the song that I had on repeat when I wrote this


End file.
